Chapter FOURTEEN

 

 

David

 

“HOW DID your observation go?”

Karen was standing right beside me as I shoved through racks of clothing, but I could barely hear her over the boutique’s music. It was one of those tiny, closet-sized shops in SoHo that specialized in three sizes and random, runway styles. Not my thing, but my present mood set me up for poor shopping decisions.

“It was okay. The kids were presenting on climate change, so it’s an instant win.”

“Smart boy. Did they perform well?”

“Yeah, I think it went okay. Kids get genuine pleasure out of talking about destructive forces of nature, and the lesson didn’t require me to act like a human being.” I pulled a hanger from the rack, eyeballing the sweater hanging from it. It was black with leather epaulets, distressed detailing, and a chrome zipper at the throat. “Do you think this is worth four hundred dollars?”

“Um. No.” Karen put the hanger back. “Since when are you into the cyberpunk fashion thing?”

“I’m not, and it’s not cyberpunk fashion,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I was thinking of getting it for a Christmas present. For Raymond.”

“Oh, I see.”

I picked up the hanger again, rubbing my thumb along the material. I could visualize it hugging his broad shoulders, and the image was delicious. “Have something to say, Ms. Ramos?”

“Nope.” Karen tried to take the sweater again. “Well, maybe.”

I smacked her hand. “Release the sweater. I like it.”

“I guarantee that Raymond will think you’re psychotic if you buy him a four hundred dollar sweater. You’d have more luck with an Xbox One.”

Sighing, I returned it to the rack. It was a good point. Although, if my credit cards weren’t almost maxed, I would get him both. “I wish I were rich.”

“So you can spoil your man?”

“He’s not my man.”

“Mmm.” Karen moved away from the rack and headed for the door, tightening her scarf. “Let’s go to Dean & Deluca.”

“Ugh. It’s always a madhouse in there.”

“Oh, come on,” she said as we exited the boutique. “It’s cold, snowy, and I want hot chocolate.”

I made another grudging sound but let her wind her arm through mine and lead me to Broadway. Thanksgiving was next week, but the city was already decorated for the holidays. Lights, festive window displays, crowds of people in black leather, and a mess of gray slush gathering along the curb.

When we arrived, Dean & Deluca was playing a dreadful Christmas playlist. Normally I would get a kick out of it, but my holiday spirit was down in the gutter with the melting snow.

“Can I make an observation?”

“Can I stop you?”

We queued up at the bakery, and I eyeballed the pastries. Overpriced but delicious-looking. I needed a red velvet cupcake in my life, like, yesterday. My no-carb policy was put on hold until after New Year’s.

“No,” Karen admitted as we shuffled along. She raised her voice so I could hear her over the crowd. “But ever since you moved in with Raymond, it seems that your face is almost permanently etched into a morose scowl.”

“That is an exaggeration.”

“Trust me, it’s not. And let’s not forget that thing with Oli.” Karen gave me a pointed look. “Have you even seen him since my birthday party?”

“Yes, but it isn’t worth discussing.”

“And why not?”

Oli had recently invited me out to coffee after school and had proceeded to backhandedly chastise me for overreacting the night of the party. I’d apologized, suitably chagrined, until he’d stated that Raymond was open game if I wasn’t dating or even fucking him. It had taken all my willpower not to smash him in the face with my coffee cup.

“Because he sees nothing wrong with going after a guy I’ve obviously been gaga over for months, and that means he’s a shitty friend.”

Karen peered around the crowd to gauge the distance to the front of the line. “How do you know he feels that way? I thought men had all of these codes. Bros before hos or whatever.”

Wrinkling my nose, I jammed my hands into the pockets of my coat. “I hate that saying. It’s sexist.”

“Oh, whatever. I’m just surprised.”

“I’m not. Oli wants what he wants when he wants it. Sometimes he reminds me of Caleb.”

Karen’s expression turned knowing. “Ahhh. Caleb. Is that what’s going on, then?”

“He’s part of it.”

She nodded, watching me and waiting. I considered whether confiding in Karen was a betrayal, and decided it wasn’t. Maybe Raymond didn’t need anyone else’s perspective about things, but I required an objective, rational opinion when my own thoughts were spinning like a wobbly top. The line moved sluggishly and I caught Karen up on everything that had happened in the past month. My possessiveness, Caleb drifting back into my life every time he wanted something familiar and comfortable, and sex with Raymond. I tried to keep it simple, but by the time we reached the counter, the details were slipping out one explicit word at a time.

“I’ve never had sex that good in my life. He’s just…. Jesus, I don’t even know.”

“You’d think he would fumble it if he’s never been with a guy,” she mused.

“Just because he’s never had sex with a guy doesn’t mean he’s never done anal. But he’s also amazing at—” I broke off when the cashier’s eyebrows shot up. “Err. Sorry.”

“No apologies necessary,” the guy said with a smile. His eyes flicked over me, clearly interested and liking what he saw. “What can I get for you?”

Karen ordered hot chocolate and a muffin, and I got coffee and my cupcake. The cashier watched me through most of the transaction, but I avoided his stare and examined the display of gift cards.

“I think he wanted to impress you with his own ass-fucking skills,” Karen said when we left the counter. “His face lit up like a Christmas tree.”

We wound through the cluster of people and approached the counter that ran along the expanse of glass windows at the front of the store.

“No thanks,” I said, setting my cupcake down. “I have enough problems without adding the cute D&D boy to the mix.”

She laughed and half turned so her back was to the other customers. “True, but what is even the problem? Do you want to be with Caleb anymore, or do you just feel obligated to spend time with him when he snaps his fingers?”

I nodded at that, gesturing with a frosting covered finger. Karen’s face became disapproving.

“You can’t let him have that kind of control over you, David. You messed up with him, but that shouldn’t give him rights over your time and attention just because he hasn’t gotten serious about someone else yet. You don’t see me snapping my fingers at my ex every time I need something just because I can guilt-trip him over his own cheating shit. You letting this go on is probably giving Caleb the wrong impression.”

“Caleb and Raymond both.”

“Then keep Caleb out of your business,” she said firmly. “If you’re not getting back together, cut him out. He’s a great guy, and I liked him the few times I saw him, but you weren’t right together.”

Having someone else say it aloud was a relief. Oli had always been way too exasperated over the notion of monogamy to give much of a helpful opinion. His advice had been to take Caleb to a sex club and help him unwind, one wild sexcapade at a time.

“Caleb keeps saying he loves me,” I said after a moment. “But I think he’s just reluctant to give up after he invested so much time in our relationship. He likes to say that he spent his early thirties on me, like I stole the remnants of his youth and he’s close to his expiration date.”

“God. Gay guys are so dramatic.”

“Like women aren’t?” I rolled my eyes. “But honestly I feel like I understand where he’s coming from now.”

“Why is that?”

I looked down at my cupcake and picked at the paper wrapper. “Because I keep asking myself if investing in Raymond, only for him to potentially decide he’s done experimenting after a few months, is worth it.”

“God, I didn’t even consider that.”

“Yeah….”

Karen shook her head, dark hair brushing against her scarf. “Sometimes I forget that things are way easier for me.”

“Yeah. Except for that whole giving birth thing. And monthly… stuff.”

“Stuff,” she said, snorting with laughter. “You’re a big baby. Literally. I’ve got almost a decade on you, but you’re more careful than I’ve ever been.”

“I just want to make the right decision. I’m tired of making bad choices and feeling stupid later on. When I was younger, I always fell for straight boys, sometimes even fooled around with them, and hoped they’d end up wanting me the way I wanted them.” I swiped more frosting off the side of the cupcake and popped my finger into my mouth. “But it always turned out I was just a fantasy or an experiment or a great blowjob, and I don’t want to be in that place again.”

“It makes sense,” Karen said. “And if you don’t think he’s worth the risk—”

“I didn’t say that. That’s not….” I looked down at the counter and the crumbs collected along the edges of the napkin holder. “That’s not what I meant. Because he is. If he weren’t, I wouldn’t have fucked him while Caleb was in the apartment. I didn’t even care if he walked in and saw. I doubt I could have stopped even if he did. I just… wanted Raymond.”

“I had a feeling that would be your response.” Karen grinned when I looked up at her. “I was just thinking maybe you needed to say it out loud.”

“So corny.”

“Maybe. But you admitted it, didn’t you?” She tilted her cup at me. “If you were really so conflicted over who to choose, you wouldn’t have risked Caleb catching the two of you.”

“It’s true.” I picked up my cupcake with a low groan. “Fuck, it’s so true.”

“Yep. So what are you going to do?”

“I have no idea, Karen. For now, I’m just going to eat this damn cupcake.”

 

 

MY MOTHER texted me five times during my walk from SoHo to the Financial District. She was obsessed with Thanksgiving, me coming to Connecticut, and of course who I was bringing with me this year. As if I ever brought anyone.

Broadway got brighter the farther downtown I walked. The crowd thinned and the buildings glittered as I neared what used to be Ground Zero. It had already been a giant construction site by the time I’d moved to Manhattan, and for some reason I could never take my eyes off the giant glass tower that was now soaring into the sky. I felt like a tourist, but everything in the area caught my attention, and I wondered if Raymond ever got this sense of wonder on his way home from work. Somehow, I doubted it.

His building was shorter than the ones surrounding it, so I took the stairs up to LLS and waited. I’d only been there once before, but I knew by this time the receptionist had already gone. It occurred to me too late that Raymond might be annoyed by me arriving uninvited because I might give the wrong impression by stalking his place of employment. But when Raymond stepped into the lobby, he smiled.

The fluttery feeling in my stomach was starting to become pathetic, but his serious face brightening at the sight of me was not something I could build defenses against.

He crossed the lobby with his down coat in his hand and a backward cap on his head, completely masking his tied-back hair.

“What are you doing here?”

“I went shopping with Karen after work, and I thought we could go home together.”

One of Raymond’s coworkers exited the suite. She shot us a curious glance, but Raymond completely ignored her, and she took the stairs down.

“Is it awkward that I showed up here?”

He made a face. “No. Who cares what these idiots think?”

“I dunno. You possibly, since you work here.”

“Not for long.” Raymond patted his pockets. “Shit, I forgot my keys. Hold this,” he said, shoving the bulk of his coat at me.

I gathered it in my arms, and he disappeared back inside. He wasn’t gone for more than a few seconds before the pocket of his coat vibrated and the blooping chime of a Facebook notification sounded. My curiosity was piqued, but I ignored it. At first. By the third chime, I had dug Raymond’s phone out and typed in the four digit unlock code—his mother’s birthday.

A chat bubble with Oli’s picture—him looking windblown and devilishly handsome at the top of some stupid mountain—stared up at me. I scowled. Going through Raymond’s phone was a terrible idea. Caleb had gone through my phone so much that I’d resorted to complex lock patterns because I considered it a huge invasion of privacy.

But Oli chatting with Raymond wasn’t normal, so I hesitated for half a beat before scrolling up to read the string of exchanges from the beginning of the chain.

 

Oliver: Hey gorgeous.

 

I had an instant and profound urge to go to Oliver’s apartment in the East Village and slit his throat.

 

Oliver: Busy?

Oliver: Raaay~mooond

Raymond: wtf do u want

 

The tightness in my chest loosened a bit.

 

Oliver: Entertainment. I’m bored at work.

Raymond: i dont entertain ppl

Oliver: Sure you do. I’ve been stalking your social media.

Raymond: uh ok

Oliver: I like the post-workout pics. I suggest uploading more.

Raymond: yea ill get on top of that right after i finish this invoice

 

I now had an instant and profound urge to molest Raymond.

 

Oliver: So serious. I like it.

Raymond: im sure u do

Oliver: We should hang out sometime.

Raymond: that prob wont happen

Oliver: Why not? Not interested?

Raymond: i have a busy life

Oliver: Busy with David?

 

“What are you doing?”

Shoving the phone back into the coat pocket was a fail. I missed the opening and dropped it on the floor with the Facebook chat still open. Wincing, I picked it up with a guilty smile. “Snooping?”

“Uh-huh.” Raymond grabbed his coat but not the phone. “Your boy Oli wants the D pretty bad.”

“Does he?”

When he just looked at me with an expectant smirk, I glanced down at the messages again.

 

Raymond: yea i asked him to be my bf but he said i wasnt gay enough for him. maybe u could put in a good word for me & mention those post-workout pics

 

I burst out laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Nah. I’m honest.” Raymond grabbed his phone and turned to the stairwell. “Let’s go.”

Raymond was honest, but that message had seemed more like hyperbole than his usual bluntness. As we went downstairs and stepped into the chilly night air, I wondered if I could ask about Oli’s responses without seeming thirsty for information.

I was determined to play it cool, but every time I set my eyes on Raymond, the embers of my infatuation set aflame again.

“Let’s go out,” Raymond suggested, pulling up short just outside of his building. “Tired of going home just to order in, smoke, and pass out.”

“Oh,” I said. “Where?”

“What are you in the mood for?”

Your dick in my mouth. “Umm. I’ve been craving food from this Afghan place on St. Mark’s. I’ve been there before, and it’s nice.”

Raymond’s face became wary. “What kind of nice?”

I laughed again. As if he had anything to worry about. Even dressed in dark jeans and a sweater, he looked better than most people who spent thousands of dollars on their wardrobe just to make a good impression.

“Don’t worry, it’s not for fancy people. The interior is nice, though. Cozy. And we can smoke hookah.”

“Hookah is a waste of a big-ass bong, but okay.”

“It’s not a bong.”

“Whatever. We can get crazy with some apple-flavored smoke if that’s what you wanna do.”

“It’s all up to me?”

“Yup. You call the shots tonight.”

I didn’t know why that was, and I didn’t ask. Instead, I led him back to the R train and we rode it uptown to 8th Street.

St. Mark’s Place was crowded with the usual blend of posers, hipsters, and NYU students. I only knew the place had once been a haven for punks and alternative rocker kids because Oli got all woe is me about it, even though he’d transformed himself from a teen who had used safety pins instead of zippers to a guy who wouldn’t go anywhere without a shiny, wingtip shoe. The only surviving relics of that era seemed to be the street vendors selling pipes and bongs, a thrift shop that catered to the eccentric, and an overpriced punk rock boutique that I could not step in without feeling like an intruder.

“I used to cut school down here when I was a kid,” Raymond noted as we bypassed the new high-rise buildings that were being constructed along St. Mark’s Place. “Haven’t been back in a minute.”

“What did you do down here?”

Raymond gave a rolling shrug, eyes flicking over cramped doorways leading to narrow gift shops and eateries. “It didn’t used to be tourist central. There was a tattoo and piercing shop down those stairs that didn’t card me,” he said, jerking his chin across the street. The place he was talking about was almost hidden by a staircase leading up to a brownstone, and more stalls with snarky tourist gifts. One vendor was selling an array of neon wigs. “And The Continental was a venue for indie bands. Now it’s just some bar.”

“I didn’t take you for the indie band type,” I said. “Or I wouldn’t have before I scoped out your Spotify playlists.”

“You really do be snooping, don’t you?”

“I’m a curious person.”

“You’re a creeper.”

If only he knew just how creepy I could be. Like watching him sleep for a few minutes before waking him up in the morning (Raymond almost always hit snooze on his alarm enough times to actually be late), or wearing his hoodies or sweaters not just because the excess fabric was cozy, but because they smelled like him. But he hadn’t yet caught on to those things, and I wasn’t going to tell him.

We walked to the end of the block before veering down a short staircase to the Afghan restaurant. It was mostly empty except for a few couples sitting at the tables around the perimeter of the dim space, so I pleaded with the hostess to seat us at the elevated table by the window with the masses of cushions in lieu of chairs. It was swathed in gold and maroon, overly decadent, but it made me want to squish in next to Raymond instead of sitting across from him. I lingered by the side of the table until he rolled his eyes and scooted over to make room for me. Us sitting next to each other looked exceptionally gay, but Raymond either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

We ordered mantoo and ashe soup, two different kebabs, and a quorma dish to share. I also pointedly ignored Raymond’s snickers as I ordered peach flavored hookah. The hookah went mostly ignored while we sampled the food, primarily because eating off the same plate as Raymond in public was making me conscious of details I would have otherwise ignored. How his body was half turned to me, our knees pressed together, the way he leaned in to reach something and did not shy away when I automatically pushed back his hair. Many simple, easy moments that added up to a degree of implied intimacy only seen with couples.

“These people probably think we’re on a date,” I said once the plates were cleared. “We look like we’re together.”

Raymond looked at me as he exhaled a cloud of peach-scented smoke. “Your point being?”

“I don’t know. I thought it would bother you.”

“These people don’t care. It’s, like, queer central down here.”

I wrapped my lips around the mouthpiece, enjoying the dampness from his mouth. The taste washed over me, and the inhaling and exhaling soothed me.

I blew smoke into his face. He didn’t fan it away, and I thought he looked even more attractive in the dim, golden light with wisps of smoke hanging between us.

“Doesn’t it bother you if strangers think you’re with me?”

“No. And I don’t care what your friends think either.”

“But what about your own? I have to assume you wouldn’t be this close if we were around Chris or Sharky. You’re even leery of acting normal around your gay brother.”

Raymond shrugged wordlessly, and my little spark of hope snuffed out. He must have seen it in my expression, because he nudged me with his elbow.

“What’s that face for?”

“Nothing.”

“No one believes people who say nothing every time they’re asked what’s wrong.”

I set the hose to the hookah on the table and twisted so we were facing each other. His arm extended behind me, fingers curling around my upper arm.

“I’m just trying to figure you out,” I said. “Trying to understand how you think.”

“What’s there to figure out? You’re the one with the problem.”

He was right, but it didn’t stop me from being defensive.

“It’s true.” Raymond tilted his head against the fabric-draped wall, watching me beneath half-closed lids. “And I keep getting this feeling like you think I’m a problem because I’m not a safe bet, so we have to keep pretending like this is all just us being friends who mess around every now and again, even though that’s some bullshit.”

“We are friends who mess around every now and again.” I dropped the fork when he began rubbing my shoulder. “And you’re also not a safe bet. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

“What, because I’m not Joe College with the MBA?”

“No,” I said sharply. “You’re starting to get on my nerves with this money stuff.”

“Yeah, right. Like me being a bum with a day job isn’t part of the problem?” Raymond flicked my earlobe with his finger. “I know you, and I know you want to be all set up right for the future, and I don’t factor into that as well as your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“You just invite him to sleep in your bed.” There was a hint of steel in his tone, sharp enough to cut through my bullshit. “You let me turn you out while he was down the hall, but you still went back and spent the night with him, didn’t you? And I don’t see you wanting to spend the night in my room unless it’s an accident.”

Raymond started to move, but I put my arm over his shoulder, keeping him close. “First, I slept on the damn couch. And second, you really think I don’t want to wake up next to you?”

“I don’t know what I think about you. You like it when I fuck you. You like spending time with me. You told me you loved me.” Raymond flashed a tight smile when I tensed. “Yeah, I heard that. And I know you heard me. But you still left my bed that night.”

My heart was pounding. Everything was very surreal. The entire conversation seemed to be happening in another dimension, another place in time where Raymond would corner me and say these things. Reference… those words.

“I slept on the damn couch!”

“That’s not even the point, though.”

“What would you have me do?” I asked. “March in there and announce that we’d just fucked? Make a big spectacle of it?”

“No, you jackass. But you could have spent the night in my goddamned bed and then told the asshole how things were once he woke up. Why are you still trying to protect him? It’s just making him think he has a fucking chance.”

I huffed out a low breath and cast a cursory look around the restaurant. Only the waitress seemed to notice that we were having some kind of tiff, and she just shrugged her thin shoulders and turned away when she caught my eye. Not her business. I was sure she saw it all the time.

“I don’t have to hurt him just because I’m figuring things out with you.”

“You keep saying that,” Raymond said. “Figure it out, figuring things out—you ain’t figuring out shit. You’re just avoiding doing anything at all because you think I’m not what you need, even if you know you want me.”

“Why do you have to do this now? We were having a good time.”

“We’d have a better time if you stopped being a punk and let me be with you.”

My heart jackknifed in my chest. I clawed at the scramble of words in my head for a response, but could only stare at him silently. He must have taken it for a rejection, because his mouth tightened.

“I want us to work,” I managed. “I want to be with you without being afraid. This all just happened so fast, and I don’t know what to do.”

“It hasn’t been fast. It’s been building for months, and you know it.”

“How—”

“Oh, come on, man.” Raymond tapped his fingers against the table. “I’ve never treated anyone the way I treat you. Not even Crystal, and I figured eventually it would get there with her, but it never did. I never wanted to show anyone affection before you. Never wanted to meet their fucking friends or their parents, or even make enough of an effort to leave the house and take them out.”

I knew these things. Had known them ever since we’d compared notes about our pasts, but I’d still told myself it meant nothing. Too afraid to hope.

“Do you think maybe… it’s just because you preferred guys all along?”

This elicited an impatient glare from Raymond. “No.”

“Then why me and not her? Why me and not any other girl?”

“I don’t know. How the hell should I know?”

I mashed my lips together and swallowed my frustration. The impatience still did not leave his face.

“Look man, I’ve never dated. I’ve never had a real relationship. Why? I don’t know. Too lazy, too uninterested, and I only messed around with girls I’d known for years, and they were never serious about me. I was a convenient dick, and we had fun together, and that’s what it was. They knew the deal and so did I. Crystal wasn’t an exception. It just went on for a long time until she finally grew up and found a greener pasture. But you know what? I didn’t get my feelings hurt because I never tried to make it with her.”

“So why me?” I pressed. “If you liked having sex with her, and you had a good time with her, why me and not her?”

“Because I had to make a real effort with you!” Raymond’s nostrils flared as his voice rose. “You didn’t just come over to smoke my weed while I played first-person shooters. You made me go out and do shit with you. You showed interest in what I was going to do with my sorry-ass self. Actually thought I should do something with myself. You didn’t just shrug and assume I’d keep being a bum like everyone I grew up with. Including Crystal and Chris and Sharky. No one expects me to do shit.”

“But—”

“Just fucking forget it. I’m tired of defending myself.”

Raymond ripped his wallet out of his pocket and made a brusque gesture at the waitress.

“You keep acting like I’m saying I don’t want you just because I’m trying to—”

“Figure me out. Yeah, I got you the first fifteen times.”

The waitress appeared with the check, and Raymond handed her a card without looking at it. I wanted to argue about paying my half, but knew it would just make his mood worse. I stared at his grim profile, mulling over just how pissed off he was and how much worse I would make it if I kept trying to explain. It was best to keep my mouth shut, but I refused to leave it the way it was—with him thinking I was looking for an excuse to keep using him as a convenient dick while pursuing more high-quality interests. It was bogus, and way off the mark, but I could just see him getting angrier and angrier.

“Listen,” I hissed, bending my head toward his. “I’ve been burned by straight guys before. It hurt and those were immature crushes and puppy love. It would mess me up if it happened with you.”

“I’m not straight, you idiot. Or did you miss it the last two times I had my dick in your ass?”

The waitress returned, and my cheeks burned. What shit timing.

She gave me a slightly sympathetic glance. I dropped my gaze and took a deep pull from the hookah. The repetitive breathing didn’t help my nerves, or my temper, and before I knew it, Raymond was scribbling his name on the check.

“Do you want to finish this?” I asked, offering him the hose.

“No,” he said curtly. “I’m done here.”

There was no question that he was talking about more than just the hookah.

My speculation was confirmed by an icy walk to the subway that left no room for wondering whether or not he was less than 100 percent fed up with me. I’d realized a while ago that Raymond was quick to back down if something started looking like a lost cause, and I was sending him that message left and right while Oli waited in the wings. I may as well send him a Facebook invitation for open season on Raymond’s ass.

The choices were clear. Take a risk on a guy who was almost guaranteed to treat me like a secret when we were around his friends and family, or try to save myself the grief by being friendzoned while he moved on?

Something had to give, and that something would have to be me.